By: Jim Froehlich
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Hank von Helvete of Turbonegro at the Fine Line - Photo courtesy of http://www.odysseyzine.com (used with permission)
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Pity the Scandinavian rock band: lacking a modern musical heritage of their own, they succumb to the worst excesses of both inane pop (Ace of Base, Roxette) and evil satanic metal (Burzum, Emperor). I mean, when your rock'n'roll heroes routinely worship the Dark Lord, burn down churches and murder each other over minor lyrical quibbles, what're rebellious kids from Oslo supposed to do for an encore?
If you're Turbonegro, you subvert the shibboleths of macho metal posturing and become ass-worshipping homosexual pedophiles. Or at least you pretend to be.
For those of you out of the loop, the Fine Line was torched back in February by Link Wray's jackass opening band. Closed for 5 months, it has recently reopened as a pretty good approximation of the Cheesecake Factory. Turbonegro, a group renowned for closing shows with flaming Roman candles protruding from their rectums, was undoubtedly reminded of the club's new pyrotechnic policy several times prior to the show. Very slowly and in both English & Norwegian I would hope.
Taking the stage around 10:30, the six-member group arrived in denim jackets, tight jeans and sailor caps - the uniform of your typical Sunset Strip male prostitute. Lead singer Hank von Helvete played the john, shirtless in heavy eye makeup and a top hat, the unholy product of a threesome between Alice Cooper, King Diamond & Chris Farley. Keyboard player and sometime guitarist Pal Pot Pamparius was Hank's foil throughout the show. An uncanny resemblance to Ashton Kutchner heightens the effect as he arbitrarily played, didn't play and stumbled around and off the stage, cadging drinks and copping feels from strangers in the audience. Other members with names like "Happy Tom" and "Rune Rebellion" ran the risk of descending into GWAR-like metal parody but the tongue-in-cheek atmosphere was established immediately when Hank beseeched the crowd to surrender their "anal virginity" to him. For a band designed to patently offend, they weren't offending anyone because we were all in on the joke.
Musically, I loved these guys. With song titles like 'Wipe It 'Til It Bleeds", "Drenched In Blood", "Sell Your Body" & "Midnight NAMBLA", your semiotician-on-the-street won't have to waste a lot of time searching for subtext. Hank can't sing a note anyway, so the point is moot. This is all about fist pumping, shoutalong choruses that, like Proust and his doughnut, evoke memories of happier times. Assuming Proust grew up in rural Minnesota in the 70's. Period touchstones abound: KISS, Cheap Trick, the Tubes, Bowie, Iggy and most noticeably, the New York Dolls. Metal, Punk, Glam - it's all here, served up with a side order of anal rape. The difference between Turbonegro and your typical Hot Hot RaveonYeahs revival band is that these Norwegians really know how to play. Lead guitarist Euroboy, sporting a Hapsburg chin so severe he probably has to eat through a straw, was an encyclopedia of classic rock clichés: power chords, whammy-bending solos & a musical precision that belied years of playing "Detroit Rock City" on a tennis racket in front of his bedroom mirror.
The Fine Line security crew, more accustomed to defending Boogie Wonderland from tipsy divorcees and the entire Human Resources department at Medtronic, seemed outmatched by a smaller but rabid Turbonegro crowd determined to provide the mayhem the band seemed hesitant to provoke. The action stayed mostly on the stage, however, with the occasional foray of body surfing and a cauldron of "blood" lobbed by Hank into the crowd at the end of the show.
What was cool, though, was how the band seemed to cut completely across class & cultural lines. At any given time, I was surrounded by Triple Rock punks, high-fiving frat boys & socks'n'sandals conventioneers from the bathroom fixture conference down the street (PLUMBCON 2003). All of them having a fabulous time with tunes that were at once unfamiliar yet still reminded them of nearly every band they had ever loved. I'm pretty sure I even spotted a black guy in the back but it might have been the light... With a crowd mostly free of disaffected hipsters in ironic Girl Scout T-shirts, Turbonegro played up the audience participation, leading the large contingent of Scandinavian nationals up front in a rousing call & response version of "I Have Erection". And from where I was standing, they weren't lying. God bless a band that actually acknowledges their audience and seems to appreciate their presence.
I was confused, however, by their appeal to the punk community. They are definitely not a punk band. They aren't even remotely dangerous with mostly mid-tempo tunes and very brief segues into hardcore-style double-time. Whatever. It was our own little United Nations that night and we loved it.
Turbonegro is my little brother's favorite band. When they broke up last year he wept bitter tears. So when they announced the show in Minneapolis a few months ago he was like a little retarded boy on zoo & ice cream day. Unfamiliar with their work, I tagged along for grins and was richly rewarded.
Tubonegro is the older brother that bought the ADD-afflicted Andrew W.K. his first Ramones album. Hands down my favorite show this year (at least until Killing Joke plays in November).
Location Info:
Fine Line Music Café
Artist Info: Turbonegro
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